How would you define ‘guilty pleasure’? Listening to ABBA? Stealing Pick’n’Mix? Cutting up orphans and dissolving them in an acid bath? Those are all valid examples of guilty pleasures, but now that Burlesque exists they only qualify thanks to the same sort of linguistic technicality which allows us to simultaneously describe both Ann Widdecombe and Natalie Portman as ‘people’. More addictive than crack and less than half as nutritious, Burlesque is a whole new filthy world of awesome.

Two parts Team America and one part Battle of Britain, with a healthy dose of Robot Chicken and some Braveheart thrown in for good measure, Jackboots on Whitehall sounds like a thoroughly unsavoury mix – think sage gravy and Minstrels. But don’t be fooled! With the addition of some superb voice talent and snazzy FX, first-time directors the McHenry brothers have created an unorthodox but thrilling cinematic taste sensation. Think chicken hearts and fried banana (trust us on that one).